


Magic, My Mistress

by DarkStarlet



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Fred Weasley Lives, Friends to Lovers, M/M, MMM - Relationship, Minor Twincest, Remus Lupin Lives, Romance, Scenes of torture, Severus Snape Lives, Sirius Black Lives, Threesome, Voldemort Defeated, mute character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-09 21:06:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10421763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkStarlet/pseuds/DarkStarlet
Summary: When something new happens in Diagon Alley, the Weasley twins always seem to know. From their shop they spy Olivander's new shop-boy working tirelessly, helping to bring the old shop back to life.But where did he come from? And why can't Sirius Black stop bothering him?When the mute, and cute, man comes into their lives, all Fred and George can do is hold on for the ride.((Currently on hold due to technical difficulties - i.e. my computer being dead and me not being able to retrieve the next 8 chapters... will have to re-write them and that my take a while - Sorry))





	1. Chapter 1

Magic, My Mistress

 

((AN: Please note that this has not got a beta, so if you spot any mistakes, please let me know so I can fix it. Thanks xx))

 

Chapter 1 

 

The screams fuelled the Auror team to rush faster into the building they were raiding, led by none other than Sirius Black, one of their best.

Kidnappings and strange murders had been cropping up all across the wizarding and muggle worlds the last year. Unexplainable magic flared up and down the country, seemingly with no trace or source, and always followed by more bodies. The Minister hadn't been able to keep the case quiet for long, and the pressure from the public to close the case was mounting.

Through a lucky break made by the Dept. of Mysteries, they had managed to invent a way to track the magic bursts, leading them to a lonely farm in Cornwall. Upon arrival, the sound of someone screaming in pain assaulted their ears, muted somewhat by the walls of the barn. Freakish flashes of multicoloured light seeped through the cracks in the wood, a vibrating pulse radiating outwards causing a dull hum in Sirius' ears.

Blasting open the smaller door on the side, the screams only grew louder still, a long drawn out thing, like a last cry before death. Mournful, it caused his chest to constrict in pain, his only goal now to find the source and help in any way he could. Followed by his squad, he moved quickly through the large open area, filled with normal muggle farming equipment, to a smaller second room. Kicking this one open, the Sirius stepped in and gasped at what lay before him.

A young man was strapped to a metal table, large leather buckles digging into his pale skin, his shoulder length dark hair, slick with sweat and blood. He thrashed violently, bucking against his restraints, against the wires and tubes that had been forced into his body. His clothes, what once might have been a band t-shirt and black jeans, were ragged and filthy. Leaning over him was another man, wand out, pointed at the younger, a twisted grin upon his face. He didn't seem to notice the arrival of the Aurors, continuing his experiment until Sirius sent him flying backwards with a flick of his wand. 

"No!" He screamed, "So close! So close! You'll kill my perfect subject!"

Without the madman continuing, the flashes of light came to a halt, no longer lancing out of the young man's chest in sickeningly beautiful arcs. The poor thing in question went suddenly very quiet and still, eyes closed, as limp as death. Leaving his team to secure their target, Sirius set about freeing the victim, and checking his vital signs with a quick spell.

Alive, just barely.

Wary of how fragile the man was, Sirius lifted him as gently as he could, cradling him to his chest and heading back into the open area between two rusty tractors so the Healers who had come with them could administer emergency care. 

"Oh my God!" Came the strangled voice of Nigel 'Papers' Parsons, as he looked up from the notes on the desk in the small room. 

"What is it?" 

"He was... Oh God! He was trying to activate the magical gene in muggles so he could save his squib sister. There's... Fuck, there's hundreds of names listed here. All the people he's experimented on! Where are they all? We never found all these people!" 

Sirius' normally pale face turned ashen, lips tight and jaw locked. He spared a glance back through the door at the man surrounded by Healers. They must have arrived just in time. 

"Gather all of this Parsons. We need to find those people. Searching for them is your top priority right now. I'll check for anyone else around here."

He turned, feeling sick and marched off to the back of the barn. How could this bastard be crazy enough to mess with the order of magic itself?! There was a reason magic presented itself, or didn't, and you couldn't force it to exist where it couldn't. You might as well drop a goldfish in the Valley of Death and expect it to repopulate the earth.

A soft whimper caught his attention and he pulled back a wooden pallet to find a cage filled with at least a dozen muggles. There was a rush of activity whilst they got them seen to, obliviated, and sent to hospitals in their local areas. The only ones heading for St. Mungos were the victim, whose name Parsons was yet to find, and the asshole who'd created this whole fucked up mess.

Arriving with the rest of his team in the emergency apparation room set aside for cases like this, Sirius led Marcus Henley, the bastard, through the doors. What he had not been expecting was for the young man and Healers from earlier to still be in the antechamber.

Marcus launched himself forwards, just slipping through Sirius' grasping fingers. The young man seemed to be awake and sitting limply in a wheelchair, leaning heavily on the arm rests. The sight of his torturer hurtling towards him had his panicked arms rise up to defend himself, mouth open in a soundless cry of fear, eyes squeezing shut.

The following event seemed to be happening in slow motion, though Sirius later realised that it only lasted about three seconds. As the man in the wheelchair reared back, the Aurors were also throwing themselves out there to try and protect him, wands raised. The Healers reached out to grab the chair and attempted to pull it out of the way, one even seemed about to throw herself in the way.

The lights blew out and Marcus was flung hard against the opposite wall, a loud crack deafening the room for a moment. He blinked, and it was over. The Healers froze as they stared.

The young man had just performed an act of accidental magic...

The following few hours were hectic and draining, and Sirius wanted nothing more than to go home to his lover, Remus, drink a large glass of firewhiskey, and fall asleep swiftly. It was cutting it close to midnight now however, and Remus would probably be asleep by now, so he'd have to sneak in as best he could. He sighed deeply and continued down the sterile halls of St. Mungos to see the head Medi-Wizard, Richard Staves.

The following conversation was brief, but shocking. Marcus Henley had indeed, managed to activate the magical gene in his muggle victim, and they now had a magical core, and were in fact, a wizard by all known laws now. 

Unable to speak with his abused throat, they had done their best to explain to the man, but he was still slipping in and out of consciousness, though it was likely he'd survive. To be the first to escape death at the hands of Henley, a miracle in itself, where at least two hundred other lives had been lost.

How Henley had managed it they had no idea, covering up that many deaths, let alone what he'd done to them... But he'd gotten sloppy in the end. 

Sirius leaned up against the wall near the entrance to the hospital, watching the Healers, patients and visitors come and go in a daze. He wanted this night to be over. He idly watched a mother soothing her daughter who was nursing a bad stomach ache approach the reception counter, a person in a dark blue hoodie linger near the doors for a moment before lipping out, and an elderly gentleman with a cane pace back and forth, waiting for news of his wife.

Parsons came running up to him, a grim expression marring his normally peaceful, scholarly features.

"The boy is gone. He snuck out, stole some clothes and evaded the staff. We need to do a search. He's still weak, and we've no idea how his new magic is going to react."

"What clothes did he steal?"

"Trainers, jeans and a hoodie-"

"A dark blue one?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

"The street! Someone in a hoodie just left!"

The pair took off running, bursting out onto the darkened street before the hidden entrance to St. Mungos. The orange street lights casting long shadows, hiding the features of the buildings in a cold blanket of darkness. 

They couldn't find him. The young man was just gone, like he had apparated away, or been snatched from existence. 

Yeah, it was going to be a very long night Sirius thought.


	2. Chapter 2

Magic, My Mistress

Chapter 2

 

Calatin MacKenna hurt all over. First, he'd been hit by something hard over the head, knocked clean out, and had woken up in a cage with a few other people. None of them knew where they were or who had done this to them. His shoes were also missing, something he noted with anger. He'd just bought those converse! 

His mistake was sitting nearest the door to the cage when 'The Man' came for them. It was dark in this corner of the... Where ever they were. So making out a way to escape was difficult. When the door had opened, he made to rush the man, but found himself frozen, and then wrapped in ropes that came from nowhere. 'The Man' was pointing a stick at him, whispering words under his breath, and then he was floating, actually floating in the air! Doing his best not to freak out, Calatin tried to free himself of the rope, but it just wouldn't give. The cage slammed shut behind his hovering form, and the people left inside were oddly silent, just staring at what was happening to him. Why didn't one of them try to help him?!

He soon found himself in another room, this one dimly lit by candles, and was dropped onto a metal table. The next few minutes were horrific as 'The Man' strapped him so tightly to it it cut off some of his circulation, and then proceed to stab tubes and wires into his skin, tearing his clothes where he needed access to his arms legs and chest. He managed to not make a noise above a whimper throughout that ordeal, and then had that stick pointed at him again. 

He watched as the end lit up. It was almost beautiful, but it scared him, more than the rest of the situation put together. And then began the true pain.

It started in his chest, a low burning, like heart-burn, and grew in intensity until it was like a true fire under his skin. It flickered through his veins, acid eating him away, and he cried out.

The worse it got, the more it hurt, like being burned alive. And the more he screamed. He screamed and screamed, tasting blood as he tore his throat, wishing it would all just end, that he could just die and not feel anything anymore. He begged and pleaded through his screams, but 'The Man' just smiled.

"So good, so promising, yes, perfect, just perfect."

Just on the edge of darkness, as he thought he was going to finally slip away into deaths embrace, he saw the door burst open and another figure storm into his hell. He couldn't make out much through his blurred vision beyond dark hair and pale skin, and then the pain stopped. 

It all went very quiet, like before sunrise on a deep snow day, and then voices surrounded him, soothing him, and stirring him from wherever he had been. He cracked his eyes open enough to see an older woman leaning over him, strangely dressed in pale green robes, pointing a stick at him. Other people moved around him, but he focused on her. As she moved the stick, his aches dulled and numbed, he felt cool and soft. He liked her, she made him feel better. 

Maybe she was an angel? He had died and now his angels were healing him?

The name tag sporting the name, Francis didn't sound all that angelic though. He tried to hear what was being said, and could only hear murmured nonsensical words.

"He's awake!" Francis exclaimed quietly as she noticed him staring at her.

"You're going to be okay, we're taking you to a hospital. I'm a Medi-Witch, a doctor, you are safe now."

He wasn't sure he believed her. How was he safe, he could still remember everything, the feeling of everything still filling his bones, every fibre of his being. He opened his mouth to ask her what had happened, but pain shocked through him and no sound came out, he only coughed and spluttered, body jerking with his rasping breaths. He could taste blood again. A cool numbness settles over his neck, stilling his coughing and calming his panicked heart. 

He managed to twitch his fingers, his arm edging towards Francis, and grabbed the hem of her robes tightly, with strength he didn't know he had left. Her eyes met his and she seemed to understand the emotions in his eyes quite clearly.

'Please don't leave me.'

He passed back into the snow-quiet, and when he opened his eyes again he was in a different place, white and smelling of rubbing alcohol and... herbs? He felt arms lowering him into a waiting wheelchair, and looked up to see Francis smiling softly at him.

"We're at the hospital now, just going to get you into a room and get you right as rain again." 

A series of sharp cracks sounded from behind some double doors and he watched one of the doctors frown and tilt his head in their direction before the opened. The tall man with pale skin and dark hair was undoubtedly the one who'd busted in the door of the room before, and stopped the pain, saved him. And the one next to him...

He watched as 'The Man' came at him, and threw his arms up, terror spiking through him, and something else raced through his veins. There was a split second of nothing then a loud crack and a thud. When he looked up again, Francis was in front of him, but he could see 'The Man' on the floor, past his saviour, not moving. Had he done that? He looked down at his hands, feeling an alien tingle under his skin.

They moved him into a private room and gave him strange disgusting medicine to drink, lots of it, and again mumbled weird words whilst waving those sticks. He felt stronger after a while, his body no longer a trembling mass, and his breathing so much clearer. It did nothing to halt his fear though.

He didn't want to show it though, fuck that! He was better than this, he could handle it, he wouldn't let himself be torn down by some insane dickbag! The threat of tears still wavered on the edge however, and couldn't stem their tide when they finally did break through. Francis wiped them away and squeezed his hand gently, carefully not looking to give him some form of privacy. So maybe she wasn't a real Angel, but as good as.

Calatin fell asleep, waking a few hours later, panicked and alone. Upon remembering where he was, he calmed and breathed slowly, looking about the room carefully. It looked like any other hospital room, but the lack of equipment was confusing.

The door opened and a man walked in slowly to not startle him. He pulled up a chair and sat near the bed, a folder in his hands.

"Hello, my name is Richard Staves, I'm the head Medi-Wizard here at St. Mungos. I realise you have been through a harrowing experience, and are probably scared and confused, so I'm here to explain a few things to you."

Calatin listened as best he could but blacked out every once in a while. Richard waited patiently each time, a warm, soft smile greeting him once he woke each time. It took nearly an hour, but finally they were done and he was left to go back to sleep.

How could he sleep with this knowledge! Magic was real?! And he'd had magic forced to come to him, making him a wizard in a secret world that lived alongside his old mundane one. He was scared.

He wanted to go home. But this was London, and his home was in the far North of Scotland. How was he to get there with no money? He didn't even have any of his own clothes for crying out loud! The thin gown he was wearing wasn't exactly comfortable either.

The one who'd attacked him, he was a wizard too. That terrified him ever more the longer he thought about it. He had to get out! He had to get away, anywhere would do, it didn't matter. Magic was real and it would be so easy for 'The Man' to find him! He sat up, hyperventilating and looked quickly around the room for something to help him.

The wheelchair was still there, and since he wasn't sure how steady he would be on his legs, he reached for it, nearly falling out of the bed as he did so. That would just be the icing on the cake wouldn't it? 'The Man' walking in to find him on the floor, baring his ass to the ceiling. 

He managed, with some difficulty to get into the chair, and learned very quickly how to manoeuvre himself. Ah, humans and their adaptability. The door was unlocked, and when he opened it, the hallway was empty and quiet. He looked around, wondering which way he should go and spotted a series of signs on the wall to his right. He headed towards them and spied exactly what he needed. The exit was nearby, again to his right, and even better, there was a lost and found that way too! If he needed clothes, that was the place to get them that no one would notice. 

The lost and found was more of a closet than a room, and he had to leave the chair outside as it wouldn't fit through the frame of the door. He walked on unsteady legs, glad that it seemed to be empty, and set about raiding a box marked clothes behind a rack of coats.

The jeans were too long, even rolled up they were still a bit much. He was quite short though, only 5'2, so trouble finding trousers was nothing new to him. No underwear however, not that he wanted to put on someone's lost boxers, so he had to do without. No socks either. He did find a large dark blue hoodie though, and after ditching the gown finally, he pulled it over his head with a bit of a struggle, his muscles protesting. It was rather huge on him, but he didn't mind, at least it hid the hideously vibrant belt he'd had to do the trousers up with. Who the heck bought a flashing rainbow belt with moving stars on it? 

Grabbing a pair of trainers a size to big for him and lacing them tightly, he left the room and found the wheelchair was missing. He panicked thinking someone must have come by whilst he was changing, but he watched as one calmly sauntered down the hall by itself. Too many horror games in asylums had him moving swiftly towards the exit, head down and hood up.

He glanced at the reception desk as he walked, skirted an old guy with a cane and made it to the doors. He paused, checking he hadn't been followed, and pushed through as quickly as his body could make it. The adrenaline was keeping him going, but it wasn't going to last forever. He had to find somewhere to hide, quickly.

Walking fast, as fast as shivering knees would go, he turned down the nearest ally and onto another street, not looking where he was going exactly, just wanting, needing to get away. He paused after a while, leaning against a brick wall, the cold seeping into his spine. His breathing was harsh again, aggravating his throat and he suppressed the coughing fit as best he could. Once he was done he crossed the street and actually took stock of his surroundings for the first time. 

Before him was a grotty old pub, the rusted sign marked it as the Leaky Cauldron. Taking it as a personal sign, Calatin tried the door, a little surprised that it was still open at this time of night. The room beyond was quiet, but not empty. He made his way to the back, edging around the patrons, trying to attract as little attention as possible. 

He leaned back against what he thought was a wall, only for it to move, and he stumbled back finding himself in a small outside area with nothing but a brick wall in front of him. To his surprise the bricks began to move and shift before his eyes, revealing a street behind it, and a couple of men in cloaks moved through towards the pub. He stepped aside to let them pass, and without a backwards glance, stepped onto the new street.

This must be more magic, he thought, weariness settling over him. He swallowed his nerves down and wondered what he should do next. The sliding of bricks behind him made him jump, and he nearly felt twisting to look at them shifting back into place. 

Trapped then... Onwards he supposed.

Looking the cobblestone street up and down, he tried to see if there was a hotel or a B&B around, perhaps he could beg a room off the owner and then skip out before they came for their money in the morning? He didn't feel right about doing that, but he needed to get somewhere to sleep, much longer and he was going to pass out again. As he walked, slow and unsteady, he paused and rested his hand on the sill of a darkly painted shop. 'Ollivander's' read the sign above the door, 'Wandmakers.'

The sticks were wands then.

He was about to move on again when the door opened, sending his heart into his throat, or his feet, he wasn't sure. An elderly man looked out of him, large silvery eyes, like pools of mercury stared out at him. 

"Ah, I've been waiting for you all evening. You'd best come in, I'll put some tea on."


	3. Chapter 3

Magic, My Mistress 

Chapter 3

The next three days were painful and exhausting. Calatin, Cal, had spent most of his time in Garrick's spare room above the shop, either in bed or sitting in the armchair by the window. He was restless, but too weak to do much else. He'd pushed his body too far, and had passed out for fourteen hours after drinking tea with the elderly wandmaker. 

He'd written down what had happened for Garrick to see, afraid of damaging his throat further, and then didn't know what else to do with himself. He'd been assured he could stay as long as he needed to, and as the few days passed he finally felt up for moving about. At least he wanted to be able to go to the bathroom by himself, though the surprisingly strong wizard let him actually 'go' in private. The shop was open, and he could hear movement downstairs. He headed for the door, and moved into the shop to see what was going on. In his borrowed, and resized clothes, he looked much like any other wizard so he was glad he could at least blend in.

A mother and son stood in front of the counter, patiently waiting, and glanced up at him lingering on the stairs. Garrick returned then, a few boxes clasped in his long bony fingers, and placed them down. Cal watched as the boy tried each of the wands in turn, some doing nothing at all, others causing strange things to happen, like the chair in the corner to scitter about the floor akin to a demented crab. Finally a soft shower of golden sparks shot from the end of one, and Garrick smiled. The woman paid for the wand, with large gold coins, and left. 

Almost on autopilot, Cal put the chair back in the corner and looked up at the fellow hosting him currently. He was being stared at again. The old wizard seemed to do a lot of that. Garrick shuffled back into the tall shelves of boxes and returned with a duster and a broom.

"Make yourself useful then. Can't be standing around all day."

Taking the items, Cal followed him to the back of the shop, the only clear path where Garrick had shuffled through the dust. He wrinkled his nose and sneezed. Upon reaching the back shelves, he was pointed to a ladder and told to get on with it before being left alone.

Just the shelves alone were a bloody nightmare! They looked like they'd never been dusted. He carefully took out each pile of boxes, dusted them and their segment of the shelf, before replacing them. He was soon so absorbed in his task that he didn't hear his name being called for lunch hour. 

"Calatin! Do you want fed or not?" Came Garrick's voice surprisingly close.

Cal panicked, having not expected the man to be standing right behind him, and dropped the pile of wand boxes to the floor, backing into the shelves. His eyes were wide with fear, breaths coming in pants, flashbacks of his terror hovering before his eyes. He didn't feel himself being moved upstairs, only seemingly coming back to himself when he was being pressed into the chair in the spare room.

He needed another two days in the room alone before he felt well enough to venture into the shop again. When he did, he was given the task of cleaning again, and Garrick made noise to alert him of his presence before lunch instead of just walking up behind him. He then got back to cleaning. He was somewhat glad of the work. It wasn't particularly hard, but it gave him something to do and time to think, probably what Garrick wanted him to do to help him come to terms with what had happened to him, as well as free labour. His biggest surprise came at the end of the week when he was handed a small pouch with money in it.

"I know you must have thought I was working you for free, but you're doing such a good job so you ought to be compensated for that. I was thinking of taking you on full-time as an assistant to be honest. I am getting old after all." Garrick chuckled. "I suppose now would be a good time to get you a wand too."

The wandmaker pulled a few boxes from shelves and opened them to reveal the magical objects. Hesitant though he was, Cal reached for the first one. He couldn't help but think of 'The Man' as he did so, the horrors he had produced with his, and then of Francis the Medi-Witch and what she had done with hers. If it came to it, Cal would rather be armed if he was found, so he picked up the wand and gave it a flick.

A loud rasping noise emitted from the wand, and Garrick snatched it back, pushing the next into his hand. This one emitted a soft white glow, a soft humming filled the air.

"Eleven inches, Yew, Unicorn hair, slightly springy. Interesting, oh yes, very interesting."

Did he know something Cal didn't? He was a little confused by Garrick, but then he did seem quite an odd character to most people. The wands were returned to their shelves, and Cal stared at his wand, HIS wand! It was a soft brown, almost caramel coloured wood, smooth and straight with no markings other than the grain of the tree, slightly thicker where it was meant to be held, and a sharp point at the end. Now that he had one though, he didn't know the first thing to do with it.

"Much magic can be done wordlessly, and some also wandlessly. You'll find some books in your room if you want to do some studying, and once we're closed I shall give you a hand."

The pair then spent their days running the shop, and evenings learning some basic magic. It was harder than Cal thought it would have been, but he was soon getting the hang of it.

"Now I must advise you not to use your magic to clean in the shop. So many wands together could cause the spells to go awry, and I'd rather you didn't set anything on fire."

The week went on much the same, cleaning and practicing magic, until finally the shelves were all clear, neat and organised, and the floors had been swept and scrubbed till they shone. Cal could barely believe it had been nearly three weeks since he'd arrived. He no longer jumped at loud noises, as when the shop was open and wands were being tested, all kinds of strange sounds echoed through the shelves. He was still quite apprehensive about going outside. Only ever venturing into the alley out back to empty the bins and returning as quickly as possible. 

Wednesday however, was the day the shop was closed, and Garrick wanted Cal to accompany him on a small shopping trip to help him carry some things. Nervous but doing his best not to show it, Cal followed Garrick closely to a small nondescript shop that didn't have a sign hanging outside. The shelves lining the walls however were filled with bottles of all different shapes and colours, the paper labels marking them for what they were. Potions.

Garrick introduced him to Severus Snape, former Potions Professor at Hogwarts, the wizarding school, and acclaimed Potions Master who now run this shop and researched new creations. He stayed silent throughout the exchange, but nodded his head in greeting to the dark haired man with the large pointed nose. A younger man with silver blonde hair emerged from the back room with a small crate of newly brewed potions and started restocking the shelves, paying no attention to his customers. Severus introduced him as Draco Malfoy, his apprentice, and then they left the shop. 

They walked to the far end, to a bookshop called Flourish and Blotts, where Garrick bought a few second hand textbooks for Cal's continued self-education, despite his silent protests. After returning home, they sipped some camomile tea and Garrick allowed Cal to relax finally. He was surprised at himself. It had been far easier to be out and about than he had first thought, he hadn't even spent his time looking over his shoulder like he imagined. There was just too much to look at!


	4. Chapter 4

Magic, My Mistress 

Chapter 4

Clutching the list in his fist, Cal made his way to Potion Perfection to get Garrick's supply of salves for the aches and pains that all old men seem to have. He entered quietly, and discovered Draco to be the only one out front today. He nodded and presented the slip of paper to him, then waited whilst the items were bagged up for him. 

"You work for Ollivander, don't you?"

Cal nodded, raising an eyebrow to ask why the blonde wanted to know this information. Didn't he already know?

"Is he taking you on as his apprentice? Being a wandmaker is quite a prestigious career move. Ollivander is the best as well, you'd be set for life."

Cal shrugged. He had no desire to become a wandmaker, even if Garrick offered the position to him, he would turn it down. Draco seemed a little excited at the prospect of getting friendly with an Ollivander apprentice. Too excited perhaps. 

"Don't you ever talk?" Draco frowned. "Can you even do magic?"

In response Cal flicked his wand at the paper bag with the salves in, and floated them over to his waiting hands, then dropped the required gold on the counter. He turned and left the shop before the insufferable prick could get another word in. Of course he could do bloody magic! All the shit that had happened to him had seen to that. As if he would let that stop him from living his new life.

"What's got your goat then?"

"You look like you could do with a laugh."

He spun and saw two red haired men smiling at him, twins, with matching grins. They leaned against the open door of the bright orange and purple building that was near impossible to miss. You'd have to be blind not to. Cal shrugged and mimed shooting himself in the head whist rolling his eyes, then pointed towards the potions shop.

"Malfoy, huh?"

"He's a git."

Cal nodded with a half smirk, sending a dirty look at the shaded window Draco was probably staring out of if the shift of movement was anything to go by. He flipped his middle finger up in his direction. The door opened and the blonde stepped out, wand in hand, glare ready to go when a black robed figure appeared behind him. A book smacked him across the back of the head and he was dragged back inside by his ear, door slamming shut. 

The twins burst out laughing after a few seconds of stunned silence, high-fiveing each other and turning back to face Cal, mischief glinting in their eyes. They seemed good natured enough, but something about the sparkle in those blue pools gave Cal pause.

"We're Fred and George Weasley, or is that George and Fred?" Exclaimed one.

"Owners of the wonderful Weasley Wizard Wheezes, joke shop premier. Here for all your pranking needs." Winked the other.

"Seven days a week, open nine till six weekdays, and ten till seven at weekends."

"Hosting a range of fabulous deals for every customer who enters our beloved winner of the Daily Prophet's Stylish Shopping Award 2003!"

Cal's eyes flicked back and forth between the pair as they spoke, eyebrows raised and smirk growing into a full smile. He shook his head, still smiling, and pointed to his packages, jerking his thumb towards the wand shop.

"Another time then! You'll have to promise though."

Cal offered his pinky to the pair, and they frowned at it for a moment, then raised their own slowly. Cal quickly linked their fingers together and gave a little squeeze, mouthing the words, 'I promise'.

"Oh! That's that muggle swear Hermione told us about!" 

"You're muggleborn? Cool! Now you have to come back and show us muggle stuff."

"Our dad would love you, he's muggle mad he is!"

Waving the pair goodbye, Cal returned to the shop and hurried to put the tins and jars away in the cabinet above the sink in the tiny kitchen. He glanced out the window onto the street, the garish shop the twins ran blaring out. He made some simple ham and cheese sandwiches and headed up towards the attic room Garrick used to construct the wands he sold. They'd received a delivery that morning, and after going through the paperwork, Ollivander began sorting the precious woods and cores into their rightful places in the the workshop. 

They paused to eat, but Cal was sent down to mind the shop for the rest of the day as he wasn't allowed to touch any of the components. It had been a quiet morning, and they weren't expecting many customers. A teenage girl arrived to buy a wand cleaning kit and holster for her father's birthday. She fluttered her eyelashes at Cal, glancing up at him in mock shyness. Her attempts to flirt fell flat as Cal pointedly ignored them. After ringing up her order and taking the sickles from her, she clasped his hand tightly.

"Is it a curse? I can help you, I'm going to be a curse breaker after I leave school."

'Is what a curse?' Cal scribbled on a spare bit of parchment.

"That you can't speak, of course! Did a man do it to stop you from stealing the girl he wanted? You poor thing!"

'Actually I don't speak because I don't want to. I'm also very gay. Have a good day.'

She gasped and glared at him.

"And you lead me on like that?!"

She turned to leave and bumped into two men entering, she squealed angrily and stamped off down the cobbled street. The men heard a dull thunk as Cal's head met the counter and stayed there for a few moments. 

"Um, hi. I need a replacement wand. My current one, had a bit of an accident." Said the first man.

Cal raised his head and held his hand out for the old wand to examine it, but took one look at the owner and stumbled backwards. 

Sirius Black stared at him, shock quite evident on his face. He moved right up to the counter and leaned across it, examining the young man before him.

"You! We've been looking all over for you! Where the hell have you been?!"

Cal just scrambled further backwards, nearly tripping over the step-stool and jarring his elbow on a shelf. His breath quickened, and his eyes were wide with fear. As Sirius made to walk behind the counter, his companion grabbed his shoulder tightly.

"Sirius, you're scaring him." Remus murmured.

The Auror paused, still staring at the terrified young man behind the counter, and relented.

"Sorry... We were just worried about you. You'd basically vanished into this air, and after getting you out of there... We thought we'd find you dead with everything that happened."

The trio kept staring at each other for a long moment, no one shifting an inch.

"Um... I do need a new wand though." Sirius smiled gently.

As though the switch had been flipped, normal service resumed, and Cal held his hand out for the broken wand. He saw the dragon heartstring core bared to the air, the only thing keeping the splintered halves connected. Grabbing the quill and flipping the parchment over Cal quickly scribbled a note for his customer.

'What the hell did you do to the poor thing?!'

"Um... Like I said, it was an accident. I kinda, fell whilst mid-chase and, landed on it."

'You landed on it? I hope you got left with a bruise, abusing it as you have.'

"It wasn't my fault! The bastard conjured a tripwire."

Remus just smiled away like they were discussing the weather, the warmth in his eyes betraying his feelings for the dark haired man before him. Cal couldn't help but notice the look the sandy haired, cardigan bedecked fellow held, and smiled softly in his direction. He tilted his head slightly towards Sirius whilst keeping eye contact, and received a short nod in return. The youngest smiled a little wider and reached for Sirius' hand.

The training he'd received over the last few weeks hadn't just been about learning basic spell work. There was the basics of wandlore and pairing in there too. Though Garrick Ollivander had indeed perfected this to just his sight, Cal needed physical contact to get enough of a read on a subject to attempt a pairing. That he also held the old wand was a help. The next wand would likely be similar in temperament.

Moving between the shelves, following the gentle pull of his magic, Cal sought out three boxes and brought them to the counter. He opened each of them for Sirius to see, and offered the first for testing. 

The first squealed like a kettle, scalding steam issuing from the tip. It was quickly returned to its box. The second shot out of Sirius' hand and up on top of the shelves at the far back. Cal stared at it with raised eyebrows. He'd not seen a wand react so negatively before. The third hummed and produced silver and gold sparks. A successful pairing.

Smiling, Cal returned the two other wands to their places and took nine galleons as payment. 

"So... You work here now? How are things going?"

'Yes. Garrick has been very kind to me. I am glad of the work, it gives me something to do now that everything has changed.'

"If you're having any trouble with things, just owl myself of Remus here. We'd be happy to help."

The pair turned to leave, but Sirius found himself pulled back and into thin, but strong, arms. Cal was hugging him. The boy pulled back quickly, a dusting of blush on his cheeks. He pressed another slip of paper into the Auror's hand.

'Thank you for saving me.'


End file.
